grandfather did, or burn and burn with strong
acids, as his great-grandfather did, but, there
the blood will still be—no redder and no
paler—no more and no less—always just the
same. Thus, in such another house there is a
haunted door, that never will keep open; or
another door that never will keep shut; or a
haunted sound of a spinning-wheel, or a
hammer, or a footstep, or a cry, or a sigh, or
a horse's tramp, or the rattling of a chain.
Or else, there is a turret-clock, which, at the
midnight hour, strikes thirteen when the
head of the family is going to die; or a
shadowy, immovable black carriage which at
such a time is always seen by somebody,
waiting near the great gates in the stable-
yard. Or thus, it came to pass how Lady
Mary went to pay a visit at a large wild house
in the Scottish Highlands, and, being fatigued
with her long journey, retired to bed early,
and innocently said, next morning, at the
breakfast-table, " How odd, to have so
late a party last night, in this remote
place, and not to tell me of it, before I
went to bed! " Then, every one asked Lady
Mary what she meant? Then, Lady Mary
replied, " Why, all night long, the carriages
were driving round and round the terrace,
underneath my window! " Then, the owner
of the house turned pale, and so did his Lady,
and Charles Macdoodle of Macdoodle signed
to Lady Mary to say no more, and every one
was silent. After breakfast, Charles Macdoodle
told Lady Mary that it was a tradition in the
family that those rumbling carriages on the
terrace betokened death. And so it proved,
for, two months afterwards, the Lady of the
mansion died. And Lady Mary, who was a
Maid of Honour at Court, often told this
story to the old Queen Charlotte; by this
token that the old King always said, " Eh,
eh? What, what? Ghosts, Ghosts? No
such thing, no such thing! " And never left
off saying so, until he went to bed.

Or, a friend of somebody's, whom most of us
know, when he was a young man at college,
had a particular friend, with whom he made the
compact that, if it were possible for the Spirit
to return to this earth after its separation from
the body, he of the twain who first died, should
reappear to the other. In course of time, this
compact was forgotten by our friend; the two
young men having progressed in life, and
taken diverging paths that were wide asunder.
But, one night, many years afterwards, our
friend, being in the North of England, and
staying for the night in an Inn, on the Yorkshire
Moors, happened to look out of bed;
and there, in the moonlight, leaning on a
Bureau near the window, stedfastly regarding
him, saw his old College friend! The appearance
being solemnly addressed, replied, in a
kind of whisper, but very audibly, " Do not
come near me. I am dead. I am here to
redeem my promise. I come from another
world, but may not disclose its secrets!"
Then, the whole form becoming paler, melted,
as it were, into the moonlight, and faded
away.

Or, there was the daughter of the first occupier
of the picturesque Elizabethan house,
so famous in our neighbourhood. You have
heard about her? No! Why, She went out
one summer evening, at twilight, when she
was a beautiful girl, just seventeen years of
age, to gather flowers in the garden; and
presently came running, terrified, into the hall to
her father, saying, " Oh, dear father, I have
met myself! " He took her in his arms, and
told her it was fancy, but she said " Oh no! I
met myself in the broad walk, and I was pale
and gathering withered flowers, and I turned
my head, and held them up! " And, that
night, she died; and a picture of her story was
begun, though never finished, and they say it
is somewhere in the house to this day, with
its face to the wall.

Or, the uncle of my brother's wife was
riding home on horseback, one mellow evening
at sunset, when, in a green lane close to his
own house, he saw a man, standing before
him, in the very centre of the narrow way.
"Why does that man in the cloak stand there!"
he thought. " Does he want me to ride over
him? " But the figure never moved. He
felt a strange sensation at seeing it so still,
but slackened his trot and rode forward.
When he was so close to it, as almost to touch
it with his stirrup, his horse shied, and the
figure glided up the bank, in a curious, unearthly
manner—backward, and without
seeming to use its feet—and was gone. The
uncle of my brother's wife, exclaiming,
"Good Heaven! It's my cousin Harry, from
Bombay! " put spurs to his horse, which was
suddenly in a profuse sweat, and, wondering at
such strange behaviour, dashed round to the
front of his house. There, he saw the same
figure, just passing in at the long french window
of the drawing-room, opening on the
ground. He threw his bridle to a servant, and
hastened in after it. His sister was sitting
there, alone. " Alice, where's my cousin
Harry? " " Your cousin Harry, John?"
"Yes. From Bombay. I met him in the lane
just now, and saw him enter here, this instant."
Not a creature had been seen by any
one; and in that hour and minute, as it
afterwards appeared, this cousin died in India.

Or, it was a certain sensible old maiden
lady, who died at ninety-nine, and retained
her faculties to the last, who really did see
the Orphan Boy; a story which has often
been incorrectly told, but, of which the real
truth is this—because it is, in fact, a story
belonging to our family—and she was a
connexion of our family. When she was about
forty years of age, and still an uncommonly
fine woman (her lover died young, which was
the reason why she never married, though she
had many offers), she went to stay at a place
in Kent, which her brother, an India-Merchant,
had newly bought. There was a story
that this place had once been held in trust, by